Invisibility
by CallYouByYourName
Summary: It turns out there are lots of ways to make someone disappear. Or, Four times Alex made Justin Invisible, and one time she didn't.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Invisibility

**Fandom: **Wizards of Waverly Place

**Rating/Content: Jalex. PG to PG-13 for sibling incest, a few bad words, and unsupervised use of magic. **

**Summary: It turns out there are a lot of ways to make someone disappear. Or, Four times Alex made Justin disappear, and one time she didn't? **

**Spoilers/episodes: Takes place after 'Graphic Novel'. Spoilers for 'Justin's Little Sister' and 'Graphic Novel'. **

**A/N: Chapter fic – my first, so if I mess it up, feel free to let me know. I'm always grateful to know what you think of my writing, or what you think I can do better. Thanks for reading. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't Wizards of Waverly Place, or anything else that might look familiar. Damn.

**Chapter 1**

The second time Alex Russo makes her older brother disappear, no one acts surprised. Justin announces it at the breakfast table the next day like it's some big deal, but the scolding from her parents is halfhearted at best. He's visible now, right? When it comes to Alex and the abuse of magic, this doesn't even make her list of greatest hits. Also, if he would have moved a couple of inches like she asked, she could've finished watching the All Night Unicorn Attack Marathon, and then she wouldn't have had to. He totally made a better door than a window. So, she fixed the problem. What? Justin isn't the only one who can solve problems in this family.

Her grounding only lasts three days, and Justin looks scandalized. Alex puts on her contrite face. When no one else is looking, she kicks him under the table and grins. His answering glare gives her the same warm feeling of accomplishment she's come to expect whenever she's making life difficult for Justin. At least this way, she knows she's got his attention?

When Alex gets up from the table, her plate nudges his by mistake. Barely even a tap, it's still enough to tip his orange juice into his lap.

* * *

><p>There's a third time, of course. What's the point of stopping, when she's just starting to get really good at it? After all, everyone's always going blah blah blah about how great it is to have a hobby; as hobbies go, this is way better than poking things with sticks.<p>

It's been months and months since the first time she accidentally erased his existence; more than enough time to get over the guilt. Technically, it was the genie who did it, but somehow Alex ended up with all the credit.

So at least this time she didn't make him not-exist for everyone but her, right? Which is a good thing. Because, being the only person in the world who remembered her dorky, maddening, disgustingly gifted older brother was a pain in the ass, alright? It's not as if she _liked_ it, or anything. So what if Alex had him all to herself for once and he was forced to depend on her, so what if her own _mother _thought she should probably go out with him, if Mom called him a catch and Harper called dibs, so what about all that? The threat of losing him altogether when she made the second wish didn't make her appreciate him more, or anything. And for the record, those weren't tears. She has allergies, okay? They run in the family.

* * *

><p>The third time is Justin's fault. He's the one who gets all bent out of shape about Alex going into his room without asking. (And he just keeps going <em>on and on <em>about the way his Captain Jim Bob Sherwood comic book collection is vanishing – get it, vanishing? – a piece at a time. But he totally can't prove it's Alex.)

So when he ambushes her there on a night when he's not even supposed to _be_ _home, _it's only natural that she would panic, drop her wand, pick it up pointed the wrong direction, and end up casting the cloaking spell on Justin instead of herself. The cloaking spell is new, she's trying it out. Justin's supposed be gone on an overnight nerdfest with the Loser Language League until _tomorrow, _which is why Alex is in the middle of steal—_borrowing_ his scrapbook of the ActionNews Weathergirl (Because, seriously? Asking for it.) when he just barges in.

Maybe if he had the decency to knock once in a while, things would have turned out differently, but does anyone ever think of that when it's time to assign blame? True, it's Justin's room, but come on. Alex stuck at home, Justin gone overnight: he should have known. And people say he's the smart one!

Justin completely freaks out about the cloaking spell. She's pretty sure his bellow can be heard for miles, or at least throughout the Sub Station, going "ALEX! WHAT DID YOU DO!" And it's weird, but even though she can't see him, she knows exactly what his face looks like right now. Like she doesn't need to see the murder in his eyes, she just knows it's there. (Also weird? How her parents never wake up during their not infrequent late night brawls. But it works for her, so why ask questions.)

Now apparently empty of Justin, his bright green alien nerdsuit advances on her in a threatening manner. She manages, barely, to contain her snort of laughter. Even invisible he's so not scary.

"Alex," he starts in, "I have TOLD you not to come in my room without permission, how many times do I have to—"

"Look, dude, " she interrupts, before he starts to sound any more like Dad, "I was just returning your stuff. But if you don't want it back..." She holds up the scrapbook in one hand, solid proof.

This doesn't have the calming effect she was going for, because all at once he gets so quiet that she can pretty much hear his blood pressure going up. That little vein on one side of his neck is gonna be pulsing right now, while his eyes get all big and shocked. It's a good show, she's a little sorry he's see-through and she's missing it. You'd think he'd be used to her by now, right? Without seeing his face, she knows it's all pink with rage.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAD THAT?" he explodes, once he's built up enough steam. "_Did you… Did you read it, Alex? _That's personal! Private! I swear if you've been—been reading my private records then I'm going to – I'm going to—to do something serious! It'll be really bad, Alex, I mean it!" His voice shakes with emotion, and she can see his shirt move in the way that means he's crossing his arms sternly. Justin is so funny when he splutters.

_Interesting. _"Nope. I just grabbed this by mistake. Because it was… dark? Yeah, so anyway, I meant to take your binder from last year's American History? Because, just guessing, but I'm pretty sure you keep every assignment you've ever done, and I've got this report due on Monday, so." It slides out easily, unrehearsed, explaining everything. It's not even a lie really, just the part about what she was doing in his room. Come to think of it, maybe she could use that History report after all? She was planning borrow (plagiarize is such an ugly word), from Nelly Rodriguez, but cheating off Justin might be even better. Why is she saying 'might be'? Definitely better.

"Although," she grins, pretending to think it over, "It sounds like there's some stuff in here you really don't want me to see, so maybe I should just hold onto—"

Unseen hands yank the scrapbook away before she can finish. A drawer beside his bed jerks open angrily, practically yanking itself out of the nightstand. The thick scrapbook floats inside and the drawer slams shut. (Second drawer, left side. Noted.) There's the click of a lock, then a tiny key puts itself away. What, like Alex can't pick one of those fake-ass locks? She feels vaguely insulted.

"Reverse the spell," Justin growls, in his not-messing-around-now voice, "and get out." Alex is surprised, a little, by how mad he is. She takes his stuff all the time; this is hardly their first rodeo. (Wait, did she just think that? Way too much time around Laritate.)

She slides her wand out of a loose pajama sleeve, twirls the tip in a tight spiral, pointed in the right direction this time. Her brother's troubled face fades into view like a computer screen coming to life. She was right about the color it would be. He takes her by the upper arm, roughly.

"OUT, Alex!" He half-shoves her through the door. It shuts it in her face, and she hears the _snick_ of the lock sliding home. For real, what's his damage?

She comes back and takes the History binder after he's asleep.


	2. Chapter 2: Follow the White Rabbit

**Chapter 2: Follow the White Rabbit **

Monday morning is pretty much the last place Alex wants to be. Especially if she has to do it at school, first thing in the morning. Morning would be so much better if it got started a little later in the day.

"Wow. So your parents finally kicked you out of the house, huh?"

Alex groans. Harper. Can't she just be left alone? She's hiding in her locker, trying to catch up on the rest of her sleep. There's not much room in there, just enough for her head, but she'll take what she can get. She straightens up and looks around, grudgingly.

"Funny. Did you sign up for Justin's Lame Insult classes?" It's reflexive. She narrows her eyes, but it's hard to stay mad at her best friend. Not like she has the energy anyway.

Harper beams. Sweet girl, she has trouble processing Alex's caustic sarcasm correctly. Or, you know, she's just gotten really good at ignoring it. "No," she bubbles, "But guess what I did sign up for?"

Tossing her books, arms held out to either side, she spins a slow circle, like a six year old showing off her new party dress. Which is not too far from the truth, actually. "Try to guess!"

Man. Alex loves the girl all to pieces, but isn't it a little early for the Guess-What-Fruit-I-Am game? Against her better judgment, she plays along, struggling to focus her eyes enough to take in Harper's regalia. She's, uh. Well, but she's obviously…or no. Huh. What _is _she?

Harper's full bell skirt looks almost normal from far away (where Alex kinda wishes she'd stayed), but up close, it's layer on layer of different sized bits of paper. So, not fruit after all. A dozen pastel shades give the garment its rainbow-sherbet hue, and the edges are trimmed in different patterns, fine and thin like lace.

The skirt's hem is weighted down by tiny implements that jingle as they hang from their threads. She definitely won't blow away in a high wind. Mostly scissors, but she spots a ruler as well, and some odd unidentifiable pointy bits and… is that a _hole punch_? Oh right… this is Harper. So yeah, it's a hole punch.

Harper's upper half looks a whole lot less… flammable, but she's sporting a vest that appears to have been pieced together from old hardback books, the boring kind without pictures. Her ponytail is festooned with a multicolor explosion of ribbon, and markers dot her shoulders in rows like epaulets. From her ears hang fat wire spirals that barely pass as earrings.

She smiles brightly, waiting for Alex to get it. Her enthusiasm kind of hurts Alex's eyes.

"Uh, okay, you're. Well, that's easy, you're…" She flails desperately, "You're… one of those ladies that wraps Christmas presents at the mall! You're a study hall… you're an explosion in the library!"

Harper's face falls. "_No_, Alex. Isn't it obvious?" (Uh, no?)

"I joined the scrapbooking club!"

Harper looks like she expects something, so Alex deadpans, "Wow. Sounds great."

Again, the trouble with processing sarcasm correctly. "Oh it is! Well. I mean, it's going to be. We haven't officially started yet. Today after school will be our very first meeting."

Harper flashes her exuberant smile. Alex really wishes she were still in bed.

As if she can read her mind, her friend asks, "So why _are_ you here so early, Alex? I mean, you're not even on time for school, usually!" She giggles, catches herself, adds "No offense." The earrings bob energetically.

Alex drops her head back against the locker, which is nothing at all like a soft, still-warm pillow. Too tired for a witty retort, she groans, "It's Justin's fault. Even when he's not here, he still messes things up for me. He's why I'm at school," she coughs into her fist, half gagging on the word, "e-early.""

"Not here?" Harper's face registers first polite curiosity, followed by a dawning panic. "Justin's not here? What happened to Justin? He's not, not in trouble is he? I _told_ him the world wasn't ready for Alien languages! Oh, we've got to get to him before the feds do!"

Her brows knit in concentration, undoubtedly plotting the big rescue. Oh god, Alex is _so_ not awake enough for this.

"Harper—"

"They've already got him? Oh, this is worse than I thought. We'll have to—"

"Harper!" Alex snaps. The redhead shuts her mouth with an audible click, but her truculent, kicked-puppy expression just makes Alex want to yell at her all over again. "Justin's fine, okay?"

Blank stare. Alex sighs. Sometimes, it's really, really hard to be the one in charge of reality control. "Justin's fine. Mom and Dad took him to the airport. He's doing this weird government thing? He won some sort of brainiac competition, and now he has to go to, like, Washington." With the word 'brainiac' she rolls her eyes, making a sarcastic gesture. "Apparently it's this big deal, and they're even opening the Sub Shop late so they can both go and see him off."

"Wait…" Harper scans mostly empty commons, puzzled. "Alex, shouldn't Max be here too?"

Oh. Max. Alex chuckles, waving a hand toward the door dismissively. "Oh, Max is totally here. He's outside collecting pinecones and wet rocks for his butterfly farm. He's gonna try to _hatch_ them." Harper looks concerned, or maybe just confused. Probably both. Alex doesn't bother to elaborate, because it's Max, which ought to be explanation enough. And apparently it is, because Harper doesn't ask.

Harper has her thinking face on, probably still preoccupied with love of her life. Then, with an expression eerily reminiscent of Justin's when he thinks Alex is being slow, prods, "Alex. Washington, or Washington _D.C.?"_

"There's two of them?"

Harper shakes her head indulgently. So yeah, she's _totally_ channeling Justin right now. "Washington D.C. is the nation's capitol, Alex. Washington is just a State."

Alex just looks at her, unimpressed. If they wanted people to be able to tell them apart, then shouldn't they have used different names? Whatever, it all sounds ultra-lame, and Alex can't be bothered with more detail. Just the little bit she knows is practically boring her to death. She makes a face.

Harper, on the other hand, lights up in a way that says she knows _way_ too much about what Alex just said. And if she's not mistaken, Alex is about to board the conversation train headed for Stuff No One Cares About.

She's not mistaken. Like she always does when Sir Dorkalot's name comes up, the girl positively _gushes_. "So, Justin won the competition for the Model Congress then? Like, in Capitol Hill?"

"I guess?"

"That mean's he's TriBeca Prep's delegate to Model Congress! Alex, that's wonderful! Why didn't you tell me sooner? Oh, is it going to be televised? I hope it's televised. At least they should show part of if, then I can see him in his suit. He looks so handsome and _professional_ in his suit, don't you think?"

Alex snorts. Justin, _handsome?_ In _anything_? Shyeah.

Harper breathes out in this sickeningly wistful way, and honestly Alex is amazed that she can stop long enough to get a breath at all. "Don't you think he'd make a really good senator, Alex? Or, or maybe a lawyer, because he's so smart and such a good speaker? Or a college professor? Professor Russo has a nice ring to-"

"Ugh, please Harper, I just ate," Alex clutches her gut, holding a hand up to stem the flow of adoration. Cause yeah, she hardly even had any breakfast, and she really doesn't want to lose it just yet.

"Sorry Alex," Harper grins, not looking sorry at all. "But you still should've told me sooner that he won."

"Yeah, maybe I didn't tell you because I knew you'd do _this?"_"

"Sorry!" She's still preening, though. Alex needs a freaking distraction, before Harper can kick it up into second gear. Taking her arm to pull her in warmly, she flashes her best "I care about what you have to say" smile, and launches into the first thing that comes to her mind.

"So anyway, Harper. Tell me about scrapbooking. It sounds, uh, really interesting!" More interesting than another installment in Justin's Hit Parade, she means.

* * *

><p>A few thousand explanations later, milling students fill the commons around them, and Alex is trying to work out how to get a good look at the clock behind her, without getting caught by Harper. Because while the rundown on this whole scrapbooking thing maybe wasn't completely boring at first, her attention span can only hold for so long.<p>

Apparently "scrapping" is this big deal among the crafty set. It isn't, as Harper is only too happy to explain, just a matter of sticking photos in a blank book. There's a whole art to the design, theme, layout and accesorization of each book, and Alex can kind of dig that. The supplies come in an impressive variety, not that Alex asked, and they can get crazy expensive. Patterned scissors for edging, fancy stickons, themed "brads"... Alex sort of stops listening after that.

At least now they're not talking about Justin. Alex has a seriously limited tolerance for listening to Harper go _on and on_ about him, like he's just the greatest thing she's ever seen. Justin is so _smart, _Justin is so _cute, _and isn't it a shame there aren't more guys like Justin? It's probably a really good thing that Justin doesn't like her back, or Alex might just have to kill herself. For real, she'd never hear the end of it.

Also, she doesn't miss him at all. Just to be clear. So wanting Harper to shut up about him for a second has nothing to do with _that._

"…And, they're not for display. I mean, sure, you might scrap pictures after your vacation or whatever, but it could be completely personal too. Like a journal, but more stylish! A place to put down your most private thoughts and feelings where no one else will ever look at them. Zeke says—"

_Private thoughts and feelings._ A distant bell rings in the back of Alex's head. She's learned to pay attention to those. Following the pull of a faint thread of memory, she murmurs, "Zeke, right. Boys scrapbook too," and frowns as the tug gets stronger. _Like having something on the very tip of your tongue. _

It isn't really a question, but Harper totally takes it that way. "Of course they do, silly! Boys can be creative, you know! They have feelings and…"

_Feelings. Private thoughts .Boys._

"…honestly, Alex, you don't give boys enough credit. You would think that you'd know better than that, living with Justin."

_Boys, scrapbooks… personal private records… Justin! _

_Oh, wow. How could she have been so stupid? Could Alex really have forgotten about stealing his creepy scrapbook? Is she, like, slipping up or something? _

"…stuff to write down, or memories they want to keep." The first bell rings, the one that means they have seven minutes to get to class.

_They sure do. And secrets. Justin with secrets that she doesn't know about? Ohh, hell no. Not on her watch. _Mentally, Alex facepalms.

Harper touches her shoulder, concerned. "Uh, Alex? You okay?"

Oops. That wasn't 'mentally'. She has to stop making her mental gestures out loud.

"I'm fine," she says, sheepishly. "Just tired." On the inside, she's furiously plotting.

Could she really be slipping?

Well, but no. Actually this is the perfect opportunity to steal Justin's stuff. No way he's coming back from… wherever… early enough to ambush her, not if she gets right to work.

All she has to do is figure out where he's hidden his book of secrets… and she's been gifted with several Justin-free days to do it in. It's funny, how sometimes things just seem work out for her. It's like the universe _wants her to be bad. _

Sometimes, it's good to be Alex.

* * *

><p>"Alex, where are you going? Class is this way!"<p>

"Uhm, I was just…"

"And don't try to trick me! We're in the same class for first period!" Harper stabs an intimidating finger at her.

Alex jerks to a halt, looking back. Man, Harper knowing her so well has its drawbacks. "Oh, _fine. _I'm totally gonna go tell that joke about Laritate's cowboy boots on the intercom before the next bell rings, if you really have to know."

"But Alex," Harper admonishes, "you'll get caught! Then you'll have to spend first period in Laritate's office!"

Alex grins. "I know. I really need to catch up on my sleep if I'm gonna make it til lunch."

* * *

><p>The day is kind of a blur, except for the part where Alex is forced to spend sixth period and most of the walk home listening to another rendition of How Great is Justin. That has a way of sticking in her mind. Harper's all, "I can't believe Justin got to go to Model Congress," and "Why can't more guys be as intelligent and interesting as Justin," and "If he wasn't your brother, don't you think you <em>would<em> think he was cute… and funny… and a little bit adorable…" and that is where Alex draws the line, because, gross.

They reach the Sub Shop and she gets rid of Harper with an improvised excuse, something about being late for her shift. Alex dashes into the Sub Shop before Harper can catch her, and up the stairs before her parents can.

"Got a lot of homework see you later, if you don't see me for a little while it's because I'm busy working on all my _homework_," she calls. But really she needn't have bothered: It's busy in the restaurant, orders are stacked up, and a customer is complaining about the "ham" in the ham and cheese special again… so her parents don't have time to get involved with her schedule.

Which is good.

* * *

><p>Almost two hours' worth of ransacking Justin's stupid room, and she's got nothing. Which doesn't even make sense, because she knows Justin's room like… well, the back of her hand. Or maybe the front. Which one is the best metaphor for a place you can find anything in if your dorky brother isn't watching you like a hawk? Whatever. The scrapbook isn't in there.<p>

Which leaves what, exactly? He's taken it with him? No, because he was only allowed one tiny carryon suitcase: Dad's too cheap to pay for luggage. That one barely had enough room for his floss collection and five gazillion textbooks, so no secret scrapbook space.

Would he hide it somewhere in the apartment? The Lair? Maybe, but that's awfully public. What if their parents happened upon it, and discovered all his secrets?

Secrets. just the idea that Justin is keeping something from her, that he _can_, makes her itchy and restless, like ants moving under her skin. It's a bad feeling.

So if he didn't take it with him… and it's not in his room, or the Lair, or the apartment, then, where… Oh. _Ohh._

Maybe Alex really _is_ slow. Hiding in plain site? Pssh, of course. The only place she hasn't turned upside down so far. She has to hand it to him; Justin is getting better. She wonders if it could be her influence.

She's barely started going through Max's stuff when he comes in.

"Max!" Alex fakes a smile, big and cheery.

"Alex? What are you doing in my room?"

"Well, I was just about to ask _you_ the same question… shouldn't you be, uh, helping Dad with that project?"

"Project?"

"Mmhm. He said something about making a… thing for your, uh…" she waits for Max to fill in the blanks. He does.

"Dad's making a terrarium?"

"Uh, yes? For...?"

"My butterfly and ant farm?

She smiles at him. "That's the one."

"Oh, man! I didn't know he was serious about that. I gotta go, before he starts without me."

"Max, wait—" she hauls him back by dragging on one arm, he bounces like a puppy on a leash.

"Alex, what is it? Dad's gonna start my bug terrarium and I need to be there!"

Alex bites her lip. Getting the information out of Max? It's a risk. If he figures her out, he'll call Justin on his wand and rat her out no problem. She knows where his loyalties lie.

It's kind of a _big_ risk. But she's Alex Russo. Her whole life is about taking chances. She claps Max on the shoulder in a friendly way. "Hey, I just need to ask you about something. It'll only take a minute."

He hesitates, so easily swayed by the rare (and fake) friendliness in her voice that she feels bad for a second. But, only for a second.

"You know that thing Justin told you to give me?"

"Uh, Justin didn't tell me to give you anything. In fact, I'm pretty sure he said NOT to… uh… Nevermind.

Sometimes, he just makes it easy for her. "Not to what, Max?"

"N-nothing. Justin didn't say anything about not giving you a book?" He looks guilty.

She gives him a studied look of confusion. "No? You're sure he didn't say anything about not giving me a book?"

"No! I mean, yes. I mean, I'm sure he never said that!"

Alex eases an arm around Max's shoulders, pretending to think hard. "Well. If he didn't say anything about NOT giving me the scrapbook… he must have told you to give it to me. Right? " Mildly, she looks to Max for confirmation, as if she has no ulterior motive and no idea what's going on. As if she's Max, in other words.

Max looks nervous.

"But you can't even know there's a scrapbook…" he starts, "Justin said."

"But I _do_ know, Maxie."

"But Justin said…"

"Look, Max. Why would Justin give it to you, and say that you should give it to me, if he didn't want me to have it? You know how confused you get about these things, and I'm just trying to help. You don't want this to turn out like last time, do you?"

Her little brother shudders. Clearly, he remembers what it feels like to be caught in the crossfire between Alex and Justin.

She squeezes him a little. Using her best big sister voice, she soothes, "I mean, I just came up here to make sure you still had it, so Justin wouldn't be mad." She nods at him, so Max nods too. "But, if Justin told him to give it to me, you probably should."

Max is still nodding, so he's headed in the right direction. But shouldn't be hesitating so much, and damn him for resisting. Whatever Justin threatened him with must be pretty bad. Alex kind of feels sorry for him, but it's not really her problem. _She's_ not the one who left Max in charge of stuff-Alex-can't-have, is she?

"I just don't want you to get in trouble, Max."

Max vanishes into Justin's bedroom (oh, you've got to be kidding her), and when he comes out he's holding the keychain that she'd seen on Justin's dresser on her third or fourth recon this evening. He passes it to Alex. Justin's plain black scrapbook, in miniature. He'd used magic to make it small, then hidden it right where she'd miss it every time. _Clever bastard,_ she thinks with real admiration. She had no idea Justin had that much deviousness in him. She must be a good influence.

Only, too bad he left Max on guard duty. Obviously, he still has a thing or two to learn.

"Max," she gives him a quick sideways hug, "You're doing the right thing."

* * *

><p>After supper and dishes and an excruciating wait to be released from family time, she's in the Lair, riffling madly through the dusty Wizard textbooks.<p>

Max drifts in too, and what is he, following her around? Usually it's Justin who has a radar for when Alex is doing something she'd rather not have anyone watch. Not that she's thinking about him, she's just saying.

"Just… studying for the wizard lessons," she calls breezily, unasked.

"But you don't _study_," Max protests. Luckily, his attention span is really, really short. "Have you seen my flash cards?"

"Nope. Why don't you look in Justin's room? I think he was playing with them before he left."

Max turns to leave, but doesn't.

"Alex?"

"Huh?" She's impatient, itchy. _Get out of here, Max. I need to find the spell that un-shrinks Justin's secrets. _

"Sometimes, it's better not to know stuff."

The words send a cold needle of fear into Alex, and she freezes over the text. "What?"

"I said, sometimes it's better not to…"

"No, I mean, I know… but what are you talking about? Wizard lessons?"

Max shrugs, as if he's just as confused as she is. Then he gives her his sweet, goofy Max smile, and she feels a thousand kind of paranoid for doubting him. "Sure. Yeah. I mean, what else would I be talking about?"

Alex relaxes. Yeah, she's just being paranoid. Clearly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Chapters 3 and 4 are secretly one long chapter, split because the abrupt change in length felt weird to me. If it seems like there should be more, keep rolling. ;) **


	3. Chapter 3: Secrets

**Chapter 3: Secrets **

They Keychain spell, as it turns out, is ridiculously easy to unlock. _Keychain, Key West, Key Largo! _Presto. Chango.

She's in her room now, breathless with expectation. She's not sure why she's so excited, but a weird anticipation fills her body. It feels like electricity, before a storm. Maybe because this is going to be good. Not just good. _Awesome, _as blackmail material goes. Epic. Sure, that's probably it.

The door locked, Alex sits crosslegged at the end of her bed, Justin's scrapbook cradled in her hands. The cover, black and generic, doesn't give much away. But her internal radar for other people's secrets is going off like _crazy_, and Alex totally trusts that thing.

She isn't really sure what she expects to find.

The cover and binding are battered, in some spots worn right down to the cardboard beneath, or chipped away. The spine is loose-looking and cracked, as if it has taken quite a beating since first had it in her hands. It isn't like Justin to be careless with his things, and she's almost sure it wasn't like this last time. Of course, last time it was dark.

Maybe the way he hid it did some damage.

She folds the cover open with a twisty-stomach feeling that is completely related to the extortion potential within, and not to anything else. After this, she can totally make Justin do anything she wants, and what girl wouldn't get just a little bit excited about that? (If that sounds a little bit wrong in her head, Alex ignores it. It's something she's good at.)

There's some dumb Latin phrase on the inside cover, and if she had had any doubts about who this thing belonged to, that would prove it. The first page is a shiny magazine photo of the Channel 9 WeatherGirl Justin likes – what's her name, again? Oh, there it is, along the bottom of the glamour shot. On the opposing page is an article dedicated to her – not from the magazine, but obviously a newspaper clipping, carefully preserved in a plastic sleeve thingy – so Justin – but still a little brittle around the edges. The article is a cute little bio on WeatherWeirdo: _Meet the Newest Member of the ActionNews Family!_ And, seriously, who reads a bio on the freaking weather lady, lame, but Alex doesn't bother with it, because she's way more interested in the picture.

So this is the Hottie Mcnaughty big brother is all worked up about, huh? Huh. Not what Alex was expecting. Not like she's thought about it, of course.

It's not that she isn't pretty – she is. WeatherWeirdo is a petite Latina – well, half, according to the article – with flawless coffee-with-cream skin, big dark eyes, and thick hair in the same brown-edging-on-black as Alex's own. She even has streaks. Alex frowns. That's kind of weird.

Well, but big deal, right? Lots of people look like that. Like, half their family. He's getting back to his roots or whatever. Alex touches her untidy afterschool ponytail unconsciously, because she's not thinking about the similarity. Total coincidence.

The next couple of pages aren't much either. More clippings of any media mentioning the pretty Latina, mostly about her awards (Meteorologist of the year? Best new weather television personality? Pssh, okay.) There a more pictures too, mostly printed out from obscure newsfan sites, which makes them not only a nerdfest but a stalkfest as well, because WeatherBabe didn't exactly make the cover of TV Guide.

Nice as far as it goes, but hardly the humiliation goldmine she was sort of counting on. Some slightly pornographic pics would be really good. Original fantasy material, way better. (Uh, because she wants to use it against him, not because she wants to _read _it, okay?) _This_, though? It's like he's doing a school project on her or something. Sure it's embarrassing, but hardly an 'I'll do whatever my sister says from now on' kinda thing. Tell her she didn't go to all that trouble for _this. _

_Come on, Dorkus_ she thinks _Make with the perv. I know you've got it in you. _

Alex leafs through the rest of the G-rated stuff, hardly looking at the handwritten notes. Those mostly offer such riveting details as "Amazing," and "Wow, the only 100% accurate prediction for this week!". Yeah, pass.

It's a big book.

Slightly less than halfway through, and she blinks. It's a surprise, but not the kind she wants. Justin's Big Book of Obsession has been, well, _vandalized, _for lack of a better word. She runs a puzzled finger along the broken binding. Now the smooth pages show discolored strips where something has been hastily torn out, leaving only the ghostly outline of Justin's carefully applied tape, identifiable as his because all the edges are perfectly even. Perfectly gone.

Flipping faster, she can see the destruction has spread. Bits of stick paper to the page where the tape has been incompletely eradicated. Random dangle from nothing, like graffiti. It's all so… not like Justin. He's always so neat, to the point where Alex is pretty sure there's a diagnosis out there with his name on it. But this? This looks… frantic.

It had to have been him. She'd suspect Max, but seriously, that kid is way too clueless to pull off the masterpiece of detective work that found this thing. Alex is actually a way better suspect, but she'd totally remember something like this. So, Justin.

_He did this right after I almost got it out of his room the first time._

Sure, she's probably wrong. Except, it feels right. She's almost totally sure the book she held in her hands didn't have these rough edges, this broken look.

There's something sad, she thinks, about the empty pages. It's like looking in the windows of an abandoned building. Not that she feels bad for him, but she just knows Justin maintained his little creepfest lovingly up until now. It's just how he does things, and always. So why tear it apart?

So, Alex has officially wasted her time. She's so going to get him for this, even if… ohh? what's this, then? A full page of script, written in Justin's careful, unmistakable hand? No, not a page. Pages and _pages _of the stuff. Paydirt? Her heart swells. Only, there's a problem. Alex can't read it.

He's written in… in… well, not English, anyway. Not Spanish either. Well. She's pretty sure it's not Spanish. Her Spanish grades aren't great.

But for the love of truth and justice, what's she supposed to do with _this_?

_Oh, Justin_, she thinks, hardly for the first time, _you are so much trouble. _

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know, right? Honest-to-gosh, both the story and I thought for sure there'd be more Jalex-y goodness by now. You know, It's probably Justin's fault. For being gone and all. **

**Either way, I promise it's coming. The story and I *both* promise. Stick with us. We'll take you places. ;) **


	4. Chapter 4: Down the Rabbit Hole

**Ch 4: Down the Rabbit Hole**

* * *

><p>"<em>What's a Babel Fish?"<em>

_Dad stands at the front of the room, leading Wizard Lessons. He holds a thin plastic disc of tiny yellow bits floating in a nasty amber fluid, and he seems pleased to have been asked. "Well, it's a language translation device. You see—" _

"_Cool! It's a fish?" That's Max. Jerry shakes his head, smiling indulgently at his youngest son. _

"_Not really. The Babel fish is actually a sophisticated bacterial intelligence developed by Wizard scientists. The name comes from a really old sci fi book, you guys won't have read it. Wizard inventors tend to be a bit… eccentric." _

"_Anyway, it's not a fish, but you just put this little guy in your ear, and whatever you hear will be translated into your natural language. English, in our case._

"_But?" Alex, this time. _

_Jerry pauses. "There's a but?"_

"_There's always a but."_

_A sigh. "Okay, fine. It will translate everything into your natural language for as long as you leave it in, but if you wear it for too long you might get stuck with the after effects. That is, you'll speak the other language, the one you've been translating, for days, even weeks or months. But to you, it will sound just like English. Makes normal communication a little challenging. Capiche?"_

_Max springs up off the couch, face a picture of alarm. "Dad, I think it's already been in too long!" They ignore him. _

_Alex perks up. "Does it work on stuff that's written down, too, Dad?"_

_Her father frowns. "No, Alex, this will not help you on your Spanish test. And for the last time, stop asking me to help you cheat with magic! The language the Babel Fish interprets has to be phonetic. That means-" He begins, but Justin jumps in._

"_Out loud," he smirks, definition directed right at Alex, as usual. _

_She bristles. "I know what it means!"_

"_Of course you do, honey," her father soothes. "Now, are there any other questions?"_

Alex Russo sits up in bed, breathless and awake. Her clock-radio glows 01:37 in murky green. She's disoriented, tangled in sheets. She knows what to do.

* * *

><p>Over the last few days, Alex has scoured every spellbook she can get her hands on. She's run searches on WizNet, gone over old Wizard Lessons, even subtly interrogated her dad – basically she's tried everything short of taking a trip to the Wizard world, which, sort of out of the question. Normally she'd just force Justin to help her out, but for obvious reasons he's off limits this time.<p>

There's just no single spell that can help her translate a made-up alien language; yeah, that's right. Made up. It took her awhile, but eventually a couple of the _neebeep gulargs _struck her as familiar, then she figured out what he'd done. Justin's big mysterious scrapbook is in _Alien. _She wouldn't want to own it in public or anything, but Alex been exposed to an awful lot of Alien Loser League, and it's amazing what she retains.

And another thing she wouldn't want to admit it in public, but privately acknowledges? The scheme is kind of genius. Too bad that Alex is too smart for him. Or maybe not, because the big leap of insight didn't solve exactly solve her problems.

She'd just about gone out of her mind with frustration. Extortion aside, she couldn't explain why this is so important to her, if someone were to ask. No one will, though, and Justin comes home late tomorrow night.

She'd completely forgotten about the Babel fish. Apparently, she's even smarter in her sleep. Seriously, sometimes things just come through for her. Is it her fault if fate is totally on her side?

* * *

><p>Wrapped up in her comforter, Alex steals downstairs and into the Lair while her family sleeps. It takes a fair amount of rummaging to find the nasty little things, but Alex Russo is an expert rummager, and professional finder of things hidden.<p>

The Babel fish are kind of… icky. Her gorge rises as she fishes one out of the dirty-looking water stuff, but she's so close. Dad swore it wasn't a fish of any kind, but the way it _squirms_ in her fingers really makes her wonder. Maybe Mom has the right idea about magic.

Wincing, she pushes the slimy, wriggling bit of flesh into her ear canal. It twists and wiggles, it makes her want to stick her finger in her ear. _Nasty. _She's kind of expecting the sensation to get less gross, but it doesn't, so she opens Justin's scrapbook to a random page, not wanting to waste any more time.

She points the tip of her wand at it, whispers _literarium terrarium!_

A lavender light engulfs the room, and Alex is gone.

* * *

><p><em>Owww.<em>

There's a squeezing, sliding feeling as she shrinks, and she feels herself falling. She's tumbling a long way down, nothing to hold onto, no brakes.

The world goes dim.

When Alex opens her eyes, she's lying on her back in a dully lit place, and her head hurts. She groans, sitting up.

Everything is washed in a murky bluish green. _Underwater light,_ she thinks. But instead it's the color of pages in the book, a blank marbled color that may be an okay background for scrapbooks, but makes for weird ambience when you walk into it. Well, fall into it. She looks around.

Alex is looking down a long hallway… or maybe it's a long, narrow room. Things have a shifty, unreal quality here. Spooky. It's a little like being in a dream, but not the good kind.

She hasn't really given any thought to how a world made out of words would be different from her own charmed journal, a world of pictures. (Pretty good pictures too, not to brag or anything).

Here in front of her, an arched doorway like on some fancy building, stretches to impossible heights, proportions all wrong so that it hurts her eyes. She can read the words curving along the doorway's arch, although they should be too far away: _Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur. _Whatever. It sounds pretty, though. Maybe a little sad.

Alex wonders why the Latin doesn't change to English for her, why the words are here in gold when she knows that they're in the front of the book in smudged blue ink, and whether she's going to spend a lot of time staring at _bleep_s and _ga-chingle!_s instead of learning Justin's big dark secret. She wonders if this is going to be worth it, because it's pretty weird.

When she looks up, there are strips like curling wallpaper high up on the insubstantial walls. _Funny_, she thinks, because it's not like there's any wallpaper. Then she recognizes the faint outline of the tape, and figures she must have transported herself into the torn-apart section of the book, not the part where the Justin's Alien Language spy stuff is. She begins to walk.

It seems like she has to walk for a long time, passing scribs of paper that used to be something Justin didn't want her to see. Now that she's smaller, she can make out some of it; just half of a dark, long-lashed eye, stuck on with tape to one wall, the phrase "anticipate heavy storm activity," dangling from another. That phrase in Latin appears on the walls at regular intervals, which is curious. As far as she knows, he only scribbled it in one place and then scratched it out, but it's acting like a header for every page she walks through. Things here are strange.

Does a charmed journal have some sort of memory of itself? She's never tried ripping anything out of hers, so she has no way of knowing. She can't imagine hating anything she's created enough to destroy it, and especially not with such savagery as is evidenced in Justin's book. The thought makes her a little sad, and a little uneasy. And it makes her feel like she needs to know. She would worry that she might not like it, but caution isn't really Alex's thing.

After endless wandering, or what feels like it, out of nowhere the hall opens out into a long room. Okay, and here it is: the walls are littered with words in that ridiculous imaginary language Justin and his friends like to talk to each other in. She stops walking, and waits for them to come to life. And waits.

And waits.

Like, is she supposed to do something, here? "Uh, translate…?" she asks, feeling foolish. "Change? English? Babel?" _Something?_

Her foot taps restlessly. She is so going to get him for this. _Come on_ she thinks at them, meaningfully.

There's another of those sickening _shifts_ and for a little while, nothing happens. Then, something does.

Pulling away from the wall, they descend upon her in a swarm, the words. Massing like bees. And for a second she's freaked out, because she's not, like, good with bugs. But nothing bad happens, only there's a ticklish sort of sensation when they brush against her skin, and when she waves a hand they scatter. She feels like she can breathe again. More like butterflies than bees. Or maybe ladybugs.

The words hang around, though. Are they stuck in this room, like they are to a page in the real world? They float on the air, ethereal. Cause, you know, that's not weird or anything. Why can't the meaning just stay in place, making whole scenes, like her drawings do? Is this what happens when you paint with words instead of pictures? Not for the first time, Alex is glad she's an artist, and not a writer.

But, she still can't understand what they're saying. Some of the words are in English, but most of them are in that stupid Alien-speak. God, it's not even a real _language. _

Also, they're _words. _She didn't come in here to do a lot of reading, okay.

With a grunt of frustration, Alex slips her wand out of her pajamas. She crosses her fingers for luck, biting her lip. _Literata Animata!_

The words coalesce, then surround her in a thin mist. The Bubble Fish or whatever must be working after all, because she hears them whispering all around her, and in words she can understand. When the fog separates, pictures form. No, not pictures; scenes. The stories made out of Justin's words.

The images aren't solid and clear, like hers, but then, hers were _made_ to be images. These are just words pushed into image form, and they seem unsure of themselves. She finds that if she focuses on an image it solidifies, becomes more real. Otherwise they're ghostly, insubstantial. More like ideas than actual things.

Bits of narration whisper past, drifting like things caught in nets.

That seems to be all that's going to happen here. Then she walks into the next room, and it starts up again.

* * *

><p>There's a disorienting shift, so that she's seeing more or less from Justin's perspective; which probably makes more sense. It's not like looking out of his eyes, exactly—more like watching a movie with him in it. At first, everything goes the way she remembers.<p>

Justin's on the sidewalk in front of the Waverly Place Substation, holding hands with Miranda and talking about his glands. (_Sexy, dorkus, she thinks_.) And now here's Alex – not the one who's watching, but the one in the memory. Crouching, just out of sight. But hang on – if she was out of sigh, what's she doing in the scrapbook?

Right on cue, Justin's voice kicks in, but it's nothing like a voiceover; more like he's in her head.

"_I saw you, watching us. You think you're so sneaky, but I know more about what you're up to than you think, Rebel Russo." _She can hear the fondness and genuine affection in his voice when he calls her 'Rebel Russo', so she lets it slide. Not like she could do anything about it anyway.

The 'you' gives Alex a nasty start, but she reminds herself he's not really here… he must have addressed some of the entries to her, like letters.

The scrapbook version of Justin snatches his hand back from the goth babe, who's looking at him as if she'd like to eat him, and Alex remembers dimly that she never liked her.

"_She wanted me to kiss her,"_ her brother's voice whispers in her ear, _"But I couldn't. Not with you watching me."_

Well, so. Weird. But, hardly out of character for her brother, who won't even let her in the bathroom to brush her teeth if he's in the shower.

She watches Justin pull away as Miranda leans hungrily in. Watches him run away like a little girl, not seeing the hurt on Miranda's face.

Alex's doppelganger goes after him, indignant. "Were you saying goodbye or closing a deal? Why didn't you KISS her!"

She follows herself inside without thinking. So, she can interact with these things? Cool. Makes for better spying, for sure.

She wonders for a second what effect it will have on the journal, but discards the idea as unimportant. She has bigger things to worry about.

"…None of your business!" The tail end of the argument they'd had. She remembers what comes next; her insistence, Justin admitting that he'd picked Miranda because he didn't like her (which kind of makes you wonder who he did like, but whatever), then how he started to like her after all and got scared.

Before she can trail them into the kitchen to watch the rest of the fight, Justin's voice starts up again.

"_I tried to tell you I didn't want to kiss her, but you just couldn't leave it alone. It really made me wonder how much kissing you'd done, if it was that important to you. I couldn't think that you had started caring about my feelings, all of a sudden."_

Even though she's technically alone, Alex blushes. Does he really think she doesn't even _like_ him, or want him to be happy? Her own _brother?_ That's… kind of harsh. Maybe she's been working on her bad girl reputation a little _too_ hard.

"_You woudn't let it go. You planned the ways I could stage a perfect kiss, asked me for details at school, chased me around the house… drove me nuts, really."_

Well. Geez, when he puts it _that_ way, she feels a little embarrassed. She's in no way prepared for what comes next.

"_What I couldn't tell you, not ever, was that no, I didn't want to kiss Miranda. Not really. I wanted to kiss you, Alex. I wish it had been you."_

Wait, _what? _

* * *

><p>Alex is… stunned, obviously. She needs time to process that one, like maybe the next million years or so. But she needs to hear the rest of this, too. She must have misunderstood or something. Right?<p>

The scene clears and fades, and she wanders down the hall and into the next room with an unease growing in her stomach, or maybe her chest.

Now she's watching Justin and Miranda stumble through conversation in a dim movie theater. He's just chased off her date, and she's explaining that the reason she's out with the other guy is that Justin treats her like "just a friend." Which is true, and if a familiar resentment rises in Alex, she ignores it. (She really worked hard to keep him, didn't she, going out with another guy the minute she had the chance? And what was his big crime, that he was _shy?_ Justin is such a sweet guy, he doesn't deserve to be jacked around like that.)

Following the script, scrapbook-Alex pops up from behind the theater seats like a jack-in-the-box. She'd been (stalking) hiding there, waiting to see what happened. It was like a really good show she was watching, and she was excited to see how it came out. Also, she was there to make sure Justin didn't make an idiot of himself. Which, as she recalls, he pretty much did, or would have, without her help. So who's the mean uncaring sister _now_, huh?

Alex knows what comes next (she was there), but Justin's back anyway.

"_It should have been you, Alex. I wish it had been. You were the only girl I really wanted to kiss. The goth chick was my cover story. Ironic, huh?"_

Before Alex can decide how she feels about that, (Sick? Shocked? Flattered?) the scene shifts, apparently in sync with Justin's ramblings. Shifts and changes.

She's still in the theater, but there's no Miranda here, so sorry, call again later. Instead it's just Justin and Alex, still in the moment after she popped up from her hiding place.

As her doppelganger folds her arms on the seatback, grinning up at her big brother and dispensing advice, Justin Russo takes her smiling face between his hands, brings his lips to hers, and kisses softly on the lips. He's not awkward now.

_Woah._

_Okay_, Alex thinks, _somebody stop the fucking music. _Because it's one thing to hear it… it's a totally different thing to watch him (them?) act it out. Alex feels a little guilty, which is stupid, because what her double does isn't her fault.

She's stunned… disbelieving. And…maybe…just a little bit turned on?

Ew, _no. _No. Just, no. That simply can't be right.

"_It should have been you the whole time. Alex, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this. It isn't your fault."_

_Well, maybe it's a little my fault_ she thinks, indignantly. You know, for looking so great and being so irresistible and all. She almost smiles at that, then she remembers where she is, and what she's doing.

There's another _twist_, sickish and dizzying, and it changes again. Never mind Miranda; this time the whole freaking theater has emptied out. Well. Not totally. There's still Alex and Justin.

Now she's sitting right next to him, in Miranda's spot. This time Justin pushes the armrest that's between them up and out of the way, then he's sliding an arm around his sister, pulling her close. The Alex in the scrapbook looks up at him, and she's all bright eyes and perfect hair, full lips slightly parted, practically glowing. There's a blush staining her cheeks that makes her even prettier, and the curves under her thin tshirt are tantalizing, perfect. So, basically, looking better than she's ever looked in her life, as.

_Is this how he sees me?_

As she stares bewildered, mesmerized, there's another shifting feeling and now, this is probably bad, a strange doubling sensation. She's not watching from the edge of the scruffy carpet anymore. The distinction between her double and herself blurs and folds, and now Alex in his arms, looking into his eyes. Oh. _Oh._ Oh, god.

And it's probably a bad time to bring this up, but she's never noticed how pretty his eyes are, before now.

"Justin," the real Alex tries to say... but apparently her lines here are circumscribed by Justin's fantasy, because she can't seem to talk. Justin does, though. Even now, he can't shut up. So like him.

"_I thought if I found someone who looked like you it'd help," he whispers, looking into her eyes with an intensity she's rarely seen, and never experienced. "But it just makes everything worse. I know that we'll break up soon, and then what will I do? Alex, what am I going to do?"_

Your call, egghead. I'm just reading this.

"…_no more distractions. I have to protect you from… from this."_

So, never let it be said that Justin doesn't understand irony, okay? To really bring home his commitment to protecting her, he brings his lips to hers, apparently demonstrating what he needs to protect her _from. _

You know, so he can avoid it properly.

When his lips brush her own, the sensation is positively overwhelming. Mind blowing. Electric.

Her heart races as she feels the tingling heat spread throughout her body, there's a floaty feeling. And apparently touching isn't as off the menu as talking is, because when she reaches up to wrap her arms around Justin, the story seems to think that's okay.

She kisses him back without stopping to think about it; it just feels too good. It's not so much like something unexpected as it is like something she's been waiting to feel for, well, ever. Which is confusing. And, probably wrong. She thinks this is what being under a spell would feel like. Maybe that's what's wrong with her...? Sure, let's go with that.

His tongue brushes against her lips, shy again, which for some reason makes her chest ache. When she parts her lips against his, his tongue slips inside to probe her mouth, and Alex moans softly in her throat. She clings to him.

He lifts a hand to cup her cheek, the ball of his thumb stroking gently. Her heart feels like it's going to come out of her chest. She's floating, unhitched.

The scene falls apart, and she's alone in the long corridor again, already missing his arms around her. Aching. Frightened.

So confused.

* * *

><p>Alex doesn't make it into the next room right away. She puts her back against the unreliable wall because it's good to feel something mostly solid there. She slides down it until she's sitting, and leans her head back. She wants to think for a minute, or something. She has no intention of falling asleep.<p>

* * *

><p>Dim voices, not Justin's:<p>

"…_don't know where Alex is, but I'm sure she'll be glad to see you." Alex's mother._

"_Alex is never glad to see Justin, Mom!" Max. And yeah, he's got a point._

"_Still, she should say hello to her brother," her mom's voice wheedles._

Hang on. Was Justin coming back late tomorrow night, or early tomorrow morning? She's never been great with time.

_Oh… _

Oh.

Oh, _hell. _This is so not good. If she can just stay in here… and they'll leave… but what if someone closes the book… why didn't she think of this, she could be in her own bedroom right now with the door locked…damn it!

_Justin, I'm not in here!_ She thinks at him, desperately. Willing him to go away, so she can figure out what to do. But apparently he's not too cool at interpreting ESP messages, because abruptly the decision is taken away from her.

"_Literarium Terrarium!"_

There's a pulling sensation as the world of Justin's words lets go of her, and now she's sprawled in a heap on the floor of the Lair. Her eyes hurt, as if she's been up reading all night, which is more or less the case.

Her family is gathered in a diassproving knot in front of her. Justin puts his wand away. She can't look at him.

"Alex?" screeches their Mom, incredulous. "What are you…?"

At the same time, Max crows, "Hey, that scrapbook is…"

"…Mine!" Alex finishes, grabbing it up in one agile swoop. She shoots Max a quick but unmistakeable look that promises an unhappy death if he squeals. "I'm sorry, Mom. I did the Literarium Terrarium spell on my new scrapbook, and I guess I lost track of the time. She tries hard to look as though this is her biggest problem.

Theresa's eyes narrow. She may be mortal, but she's not stupid. And she's Alex's mother, after all. "You don't do the scrapbook thing, Alex!"

"I… just got started!" Technically, true.

Theresa settles her hands on her hips, "When?"

"Yesterday! Well, not yesterday because I kind of missed the first meeting, but yeah. Harper's idea." She's already edging toward the door.

Her dad looks mollified, but her mother know's something's up. She just doesn't know what it is yet. "Well. You'd better run upstairs and change into something decent, young lady. No going back to bed!"

"Okay, Mom!" Hugging the book to her chest, she hurries out. She chances a look at Justin on her way by, and wishes she hadn't. He's wide-eyed and pale, bloodless with shock. And, cuter than she remembers him being before he left and oh _god_ she really needs to leave right now. This is so messed up.

She flees.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **This chapter is even longer than the last, but I'm all done with splitting them up. I hope the pace won't be too weird because of it, and if it is please let me know and I'll do something about it.

Also, I just wanted to say... I really love writing for you guys. I know I'm hardly a FFN rockstar or anything, but I really appreciate the reviews I've received on this story, and on the others. The alerts and favorites are also great to see. And honestly? I'm just glad someone's reading it. Thanks. :)

PS: I'm obviosly (hopefully not TOO obviously) in the market for a beta. I'll start looking them up in the official way pretty soon and PMing people, but if there's anyone out there in the fandom who's just dying to proofread my stuff, and to have me return the favor, look me up, huh?


	5. Chapter 5: Knowing

**Invisibility Chapter 5: Knowing**

* * *

><p>In the darkness, Justin is stealth. He's stealth personified, moving with the soundless grace of a, a mountain lion! No, wait, a cheetah, or—damn it. A panther, then. That's manly, right? Okay. Panther.<p>

_In the darkness, Justin is stealth._ He's also really, really nervous. He really does need mutant streak of feline grace in his DNA to pull this off, he knows. Also malicious cunning, evil brilliance, and the devil's luck. So he needs to be channeling Alex, basically.

For now, Justin focuses on not breathing too loudly. Or much at all. Gently, he eases open the top drawer of his sister's dresser. It's stuffed haphazardly with wads of silk and lace; he's opened her underwear drawer. _Ohgodohgod. _He shuts it again, face burning. That drawer wasn't really deep enough to hold the scrapbook anyway, right? (Unless she's shrunken down again, but he'll deal with one problem at a time, thanks.) Quietly, he eases out the next.

"Y'know, egghead, if you really wanted to borrow a pair of panties, all you had to do was ask."

_Alex! _Biting back a shriek, he jerks upright: it's a reflex. He's been conditioned by years of experience to prepare himself for sudden attack, hysterical magic, or any one of Alex-related disasters, that can follow the sound of that voice. It's a good reflex; it's served him well over the years. But it's too bad that he's still grasping the knobs of the dresser.

His training backfires this time as his sharp, sudden backwards pull yanks the drawer from its runners. It slips greasily through his sweaty fingers, and with bizarre accuracy lands squarely on his foot. Justin gives a muffled yelp as he clutches the injured limb, hopping. Aw, that hurts!_ Probably broken_, he thinks. _Mom will have to Google it in the morning. _Without looking at her, he just knows his sister is enjoying the show.

When he does stop hopping and turns to look, Alex is watching him from within several layers of blankets, with only her head really visible. It's like being watched by something in a cave.

"What _are_ you doing in my room, Justin?" As if she didn't know.

"I'm not… You're dreaming," He mutters, halfheartedly. He stoops to pick up the contents of her spilled dresser drawer: only socks, thank god. He's honestly not sure if he could survive handling her underwear, even to put them away. He shovels them into the drawer, head down and eyes averted.

"Just leave them," Alex scoffs, exposing a slender limb just long enough to wave her hand dismissively at the mess. "Usually when stuff falls, I let it stay on the ground. What's the point in fighting," she stifles a yawn, "…gravity?" The arm vanishes back into the mass of blankets, which she hugs close to her as she watches him work.

That much is pretty obvious, now that he's down here on the floor with her things. "It's not healthy to live in such a disorganized state, _Alex_," he hisses in a whisper. "Just because you've embraced laziness doesn't mean I'm going to start." Hurriedly, he finishes putting her socks to rights and slides the drawer back into place.

His efforts only serve to make his sister amused. "Dude, why are you _whispering_?" she chortles. "Oh! I know. Are you trying not to wake me up?"

Justin glowers. Alex laughs.

His sister rolls onto her side and regards him from within her cocoon of blankets, all tousled and soft with sleep. God, if she's ever looked better than she does at this moment, he doesn't know when. It makes his mouth go dry, he's an idiot, and coming in here was _such_ a bad idea, in hindsight.

Justin doesn't stare, though. He doesn't think about how soft, warm weight of her in his arms if her were to gather her, blankets and all, into his lap.

He just doesn't.

"Yeah, I know why you're in here." Alex smiles her knowing smile at him. Justin wonders if she can see him blush, in the dark.

Her dark hair falls over one eye, distracting him with the need to brush it away. Nope, not a good idea at all. But not totally his fault.

When he came home this morning to find her on the floor of the Lair, curled up around his most damning possession, he'd panicked. Forced to wait an eternity, he'd barely able to tolerate his parents' well-meaning questions and Max's increasingly aggressive demand for souvenirs. Meanwhile his sister kept herself outside the family circle, aloof, but casting him cryptic looks. He's amazed the accumulated tension hasn't killed him.

"You're _so _not going to find it."

"I SO will, Alex. You're not as smart as you think," Justin challenges.

"Or as dumb as you think," she snaps back.

"I'm gonna find my scrapbook," he mutters.

"Hmmmkay," she agrees, wriggling over to go back to sleep. "Good luck with that." Justin can't stand her sometimes; she's so very good at pushing his buttons. He tries not to notice that her sleep voice is low and husky. He's just plain crazy, coming in here in the middle of the night.

He stares at her back for a minute, then at the wild mess of her room. As much as he hates to concede the point, Alex is probably right. Also, she's awfully nonchalant about it, which means it's not in the room anyway. He can read her so well.

The best thing would be to go back to his own bedroom for some much needed rest (airline travel is exhausting for him), and regroup tomorrow. Sure. Right. Good plan. With that resolve firmly in his mind, he crosses the room to Alex's pink-shrouded form instead and lowers himself gently to the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb her as he settles his weight.

And then, because as he is apparently crazy, his hand hovers over the tumbled mass of her dark hair, heaped on the pillow. Touching her is almost irresistible. Oh, but he's going to be so sorry for this, he knows. It's an impressively bad idea. Clearly his sister is a force for evil, asleep or awake.

But. He can't. Help it.

"You need something, egghead? Lost your Teddy?"

Her voice breaks the spell before he can touch her, and Justin is grateful. He squeezes his fingers into tight fists, to punish them for their bad judgment. "Nope."

She doesn't look at him. "Why're you still here?"

He has to do this. His fists unfurl themselves, to pluck at the covers nervously. "Alex," he begins, "A-about what was in the book…"

"What about it, dorkface? I really enjoyed the pictures of the 40-year-old WeatherWeirdo you're crushing on."

"Alex-"

"…but I don't speak Loser, so your deep dark secret is still safe."

He's confused… and then he gets it. "So you didn't…"

"Didn't spend an hour staring at that stupid gibberish until I bored myself to sleep and got caught? Sure DID," she grumbles with disgust. "You own me an hour of my life back."

The executioner's axe that's been dangling over Justin's head ever since saw his little sister sprawled on the floor of the Lair suddenly vanishes. The words are so good they seem a little unreal in his head. She didn't read it. She didn't… read it.

_She didn't read it, _oh, thank god, she didn't read it! A weight the size of the Coney Island Ferris wheel has been lifted from his chest, and Justin can breathe.

He's suddenly really, really tired. "Fine," he offers, getting up, feeling obligated to make at least a token argument. "But I still need it back. Tomorrow, Alex. Or I'm telling."

They both know that's a lie, but Justin's a bad liar. Something else they both know. Lying and making it sound good is more along the lines of Alex's skill set.

But she surprises him by sitting up. She shakes her hair out of her face to look at him. She's gorgeously tousled, and right away he has to look at something else.

"So… what's written in there, anyway?" she asks, serious now. Her voice is a little odd, but he can't place the difference in it. "What's the big secret?" She's making him feel a little uncomfortable. His long fingers trace circles and figures of eight on the bedspread. Alex just waits.

Justin scoffs, with bravado he doesn't feel, "And I should tell you that _why_?

She gives a coy little smile that makes him blush all over again. "Well, maybe if you tell me the truth… and I like what you have to say… I'll give it back to you."

He was right the first time; Alex is evil. Now she's giving him a look he really can't read, and Justin's palms begin to sweat. _Say something, stupid! Before she gets suspicious! _"Oh, um, nothing?" He gulps a little when his voice cracks. " I mean, not much of a secret really. It's some old stuff that doesn't matter any more."

_(A crust of ice forms on Alex's heart. It is?)_

"But still, kind of embarrassing." He sidles toward the door.

"Old stuff? Is that what was on the pages you tore out, too? Old stuff?"

He stops walking, turns back. Blinks at her. Someone's been thorough, it seems. If she ever applied the same kind of diligence to her schoolwork that she does to sneakery, she'd get better grades than Justin. Now Justin steels himself, saying a silent prayer that he'll be able to come up with the best lie he's ever told.

"Okay, fine. Yeah. Just some stupid stuff I wrote about a girl I used to like, if you really have to know. I… took out everything that wasn't… in code. Kind of embarrassing, like I said. Plus, I'd hate for it to fall into the wrong hands." He actually manages a small smile, at the joke. Because, it's pretty much already in the wrong hands.

Alex doesn't smile back. "Oh."

He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his robe. "What's left probably isn't even very good blackmail material, Alex," he says, almost apologetic about it. "Like I said, old news. I just… I need it back. For sentimental reasons, you know? That's all."

"Oh," she says again. He wonders if he's said something wrong. He's so often wrong, when they argue. "So you won't mind if I hold onto it for a while, then."

"But you said…!"

She peers at him. "I thought your answer was gonna be more interesting," she says, honestly. "If I can't even use it for blackmail, I've gotta get _something_ for all my trouble, right? Hey, that was really hard work!"

"Alex…" he growls, tensing up.

"Oh _relax_, god. It's in a safe place, okay? I'll give it back just as soon as I figure out what I'm gonna make you do to earn it."

Wow. Did she just say that? Alex gives him a cocky little smile and he tells himself _(DON'T think about it Justin don't think about it)_ that he really, really needs to get to bed.

With that, his sister curls up, snuggling her face into her pillows. "Whatever," she sighs, all soft and sleepy again. Why is it that she's at her most adorable when she's making him squirm? Is it some sort of cosmic law or something? Whatever it is, it's not fair to Justin, really it's not. A rebellious curl slides down her cheek, and he has to fight the urge, strong and ridiculous, to brush it away.

"I need my beauty sleep," Alex mutters into the pillow. "Get out of here, Justin."

There's no particular reason he should feel so punched in the gut. No reason he should stand here, stupidly, watching her breathe.

"Goodnight, Alex," he whispers, a little later. The door shuts, softly.

Justin doesn't look back to see Alex open her eyes. She watches him go, expression indecipherable. She stares at the door for a long time after he's gone, hands clutching the scrapbook tightly under the blankets.

* * *

><p>Justin doesn't exactly say anything about it on the walk to school, not with Max right there, but Alex has had a lot of time to get good at reading Justin's mind. She can almost hear his wheels grind as he tries to figure out her hiding place. He only catches her eye once or twice, but she smiles sweetly both times. On second thought, maybe that's his <em>teeth <em>she hears.

The morning is bright but crisp, and even with her bright red scarf wound around her, Alex is cold. It's hard to button up her coat with the strap of her messenger bag throttling her, so as the three of them stop at a crosswalk to wait for the light (not that there are any cars, but god forbid Mister Safety should be a party to jaywalking), she thrusts the bag at Justin. (Max is already carrying her backpack, so that wouldn't be fair.)

"Can you hold this?"

He makes indignant noises, but really he's already holding it. The light changes and she drifts across the street still doing up her buttons, so Justin has to hang onto the bag. What? He's supposed to be the guy or whatever, and she can't do _everything._

By the time they get to school he's forgotten he's carrying it, and Alex has to grab his arm to keep him from leaving. "Justin, can I have that please?"

If it's true that his ongoing torment makes her smile a little brighter and her step a little springier, the opposite is true for Justin, who is even less friendly than usual. He offloads the back with a grunt, ducking under the strap to pass it back to her.

"I don't see why you need two bags," he grouses, not even bothering to complain about being her pack mule, "What have you got _in_ there? Rocks?" He makes as if to lift the flap and look, and Alex has a moment of real alarm.

"You know, things," she says vaguely, snatching it away. "Books, gym clothes…" He's still looking at her. "…girl stuff…" she adds, desperately.

That does it. He drops the subject, and the bag, in a hurry, brushing away the strap where it clings to his arm, as if it might harbor some kind of cooties. Alex smirks as he walks away. Boys are just so easy, sometimes.

In third period, Harper asks, "Wow, Alex, what do you have in your bag? It's so heavy!" as she gives it back to her inside the classroom, and wow, déjà vu. Apparently Harper is just as nosy as Justin, but at least she's a lot more trusting.

"Oh, just a few things," Alex murmurs. "For class. I, uh, guess I got tired of going back and forth to my locker all the time."

Harper gives her a look. "Alex, your locker is right _there_."

"Uh, yeah!" Alex retorts, defensively. "Which is why it doesn't even make sense for me to keep walking back and forth all the time, duh!" So it's a little weak even for Alex, so what? Because she's lucky like that, the teacher walks in right then. The subject doesn't come up later.

* * *

><p>Her last class of the day is study hall, which Alex more or less figures was invented by someone who hates kids. When she gets tired of doodling in her Science notebook, Alex slumps over to one side to mess with Harper. The girl just studies way too much.<p>

Harper is made out of butterflies, and orange and purple and red. They're in her hair, stuck to little wires circling her belt, decal'd on her Tshirt and jeans, alongside a winding flower motif that Alex assumes is there to give the little buggers something to eat. Her earrings might be cocoons, or might not. Even her pencils have little plastic butterflies perched on their ends. Alex picks one off and plays with it.

Absentmindedly, she slips her hand into her bag, stroking the cold, smooth cover of Justin's scrapbook.

Harper and Justin are both right, though; it really _is_ kinda heavy. She's going to have to figure out a better way to carry it around.

* * *

><p>So, it turns out magical journalsdiaries/scrapbooks really _do_ have memories of themselves.

On Friday night, Alex locks herself in her room. She even locks the door twice, once with the dopey little pushbutton on the doorknob, and again (more reliably) with her wand. She even uses a spell lock. (See, Justin? She _can_ remember. When it's important.)

And, mostly, she's just gonna make sure the scrapbook is the way he left it? So that Justin won't be suspicious—er, mad—when she decides what he's gonna have to do to get it back.

And what better way to check on it than to pop right in and say hi?

So, she's got her wand out and is almost successfully ignoring the rising excitement moving through her like bubbles of carbonation, ticklish. Alex opens the scrapbook, flips through the pages to find the right spot… and then, everything just sort of stops.

Because, well. This wasn't exactly part of the plan. The idea was to humiliate Justin.

Not to humiliate Alex.

Apparently, she's just such a natural artist that she makes art everywhere she goes. Or something. Splashed across the pages that Alex Russo has walked through, in brilliant color and excruciating detail, is a complete record of what she's done inside Justin's imagine world.

In _picture _form.

The pictures are pretty good, actually, if she does say so herself. They're comic-book style illustrations, with panels and everything (probably Justin's influence, there), so not really her normal medium, but still not bad. They look like something Alex might have drawn. Technically she didn't, but still.

She turns the pages with less alarm than interest, following her own trek through the book. It's not until she reaches the fast-becoming-infamous theater scene from Justin's rambling entry, that the intrigue fades and the panic really sets in.

The theater is the first place where images give way to _words._

And, y'know, comic-book panels, unlike Lose League gibberish, are _totally_ easy to read. So, this might be a problem? It's one thing to admire the artfully-rendered illustrations of a girl who looks an awful lot like Alex making out with a cute guy who looks an awful lot like Justin. Like, that might be tough to explain, a little, but Alex is _good_. If she does say so herself. Given enough time to work on him, she can probably even convince Justin to take the blame. He's easy like that.

But the narration…? Thought bubbles popping right out of Scrapbook Alex's head, telling whoever wants to know that her brother's eyes are surprisingly pretty up close, that he's not _completely_ unbearable when he's not being all super-nerd, and that even for a nerd, holy wow, can he _kiss…_

Well. It's a little bit harder to explain. Or pass off as a quirk of magic.

So, _that's_ not good. She's totally gonna have to do something about it.

But, well. The pictures are already in there, right? And she's going to have to figure out how to get rid of them, either way. And here she is, door all spell-locked and everything, ready to go.

What's the difference between a few pictures and a few more?

Alex bites her lip, casting a guilty look toward the dividing wall between her room and Justin's. She reaches for her wand.

"_Literarium Terrarium!"_

(At least this time, she locked the door.)


End file.
